


I dreamed about you and it was awful

by rybari



Category: Namesake (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rybari/pseuds/rybari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has...kind of a sex dream? nothing REALLY happened. that's what she's going to tell herself when she sees Warrick in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I dreamed about you and it was awful

She was kissing Warrick. Her fingers were caught up in his hair and his arm was snaking around her waist to pull her closer, and she did not want to stop.

Warrick was backing her up, up until she felt mattress hit her knees. She grinned against his mouth, grabbed his collar and fell backwards. As they went down, Warrick jerked away just in time to avoid smashing their heads together. “Whoa!” he said, half-laughing. “ _You’re_ eager.”

“And you’re not?” Emma nudged his crotch with her thigh, and grinned at how red he looked.

He leaned down and kissed her again, trailing down her jaw like stars.

“You don’t have a comeback to that, do you?” she muttered. A tiny noise escaped when his teeth scraped her neck. He paused, shot her a wide smile. She stuck out her tongue. “Dork. _Ne ris pas_.”

His reply was half-formed when she pressed her lips against his, letting her mouth part. Emma fumbled with his belt buckle as he slid a hand up her shirt, and she didn’t realize something was wrong until they broke apart. “Wait.” she said, panting, “wait, what about your –”

“-water curse.” she said, opening her eyes.

It was dark.

Emma sat up, reached for her sword and unsheathed it in one swift movement. No one was in the room. It wasn’t _completely_ dark, she saw now – moonlight was shafting through her shutters, and the LED light from her clock was giving off a tiny glow, and _she almost had a sex dream about Warrick goddamn Chopper._

She dropped the sword. She dropped the sheath too. If she was standing, she was not entirely sure if she wouldn’t have just dropped, period.

“Okay.” she said. She slammed the sword back into the sheath, winced at the entendre (Crewe, she told herself sternly, get your mind out of the gutter. Your sword isn’t even _green_ ) and rolled out of bed. For some reason, she was convinced that if she went back to sleep, she’d see a way less awkward version of Warrick again and she wasn’t sure she knew how she’d handle twoweird dreams in a row.

She opened the door and set off down one hallway. It’d been a few days since they’d moved into Calliope, but she was pretty sure the kitchen was on the east wing. What was it that Agha said? Tea helped? She _really_ hoped so.

“This is fine.” she told herself. “Adults – regular adults have dreams all the time. They talk about it on Gray’s Anatomy. _This is fine.”_

Her eyes had gotten used to the dark by the time she came onto the kitchen, and she squinted at how _bright_ it was. The white tiles really didn’t help with her vision. She blinked the spots out of her eyes in time to see Warrick standing up.

“Oh! You’re up late.” he said. “You doing okay?”

Emma was speechless. Time slowed down. His hair was rumpled, maybe from a few hours of sleep, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his collarbone just visible. He had commandeered the kitchen table. It was strewn with paper and books and all she could think of was burying her face between his neck and shoulder and he _would_ smell like old parchment, wouldn’t he. Emma didn’t even _like_ the smell of books. Her face was burning.

“Emma?” he asked. Crossing the room, he cupped her face. His thumb traced absently over her cheek, and she could tell it wasn’t even intentional. _Fuck_. “You look like you have a fever.”

“FINE!” Emma yelped. Warrick jolted away from her. “ _I am_. That is. Very good. Sorry, I just - had a weird dream, and I needed some tea.”

He frowned. “What kind of a dream? You look a little freaked out.”

 _I had a dream where you had very good hands,_ she thought, _and knew how to bite._ “Um.” she said intelligently. “Kind of. Not important, right now.”

Warrick tipped his head to one side, but he let the matter drop. Emma breathed an internal sigh of relief while she powered on the kettle. It was quiet. And kind of nice, listening to pages flip. She dropped a tea bag into a cup and peeked over his shoulder. It looked like an atlas, but more wiggly. Bits of it tended to sneak into other corners. They wouldn’t stop once he flipped the page, either.

 “So why did you get up?” she asked, pouring hot water into her cup.

He blinked, looked over at the clock. It was three am. “Oh. I never went to sleep.”

“What?!” she squawked. “Wait, is this why you’re so dead in the morning?”

“I’m just not a morning person!” he looked a little offended. “I don’t need to sleep that much because of my curse. Don’t need to eat much, either.”

Emma frowned. It wasn’t like she could tell a grown man what to do, but Warrick was being an idiot. “We need to get up at like, seven tomorrow. At the latest. You’re going to run on _four hours_ of sleep?”

A wry smile spread over his face, so eerily like the smile dream Warrick had had. Emma clutched her teacup a little tighter to make herself stop thinking about dream Warrick and also real Warrick’s…everything. “I had three when we got to the Emerald City. I think I can manage.”

“If you’re sure.” she sighed. She sat at the table and pulled one of his papers close. It was written in a weird, angular language that, if she squinted at, sullenly reformed itself into English. She focused a little harder, and with a sort of inward _pop_ it snapped to English and stayed. More of a list than formal notes, it listed all the books that Warrick apparently needed.

 _Atlas, ~~general history~~ history by continent? Must ask Wendy, Science- magical; biology; chemistry; alchemy (note- a lot of alchemy books are written by idiots); physics?, mathematics definitely, book on Earth customs on courting_.

Courting?

Very slowly, she scanned the spines of the books Warrick had out. She saw one that said _Advice on Courtship and Marriage_ and very slowly slid it out from under a few notes. Warrick could barely tell, anyway – he was absorbed in a massive atlas where bits of the geography liked to wiggle off to the other pages. Then, when she was sure she had the book, she slid the notes over as well. To her absolute disappointment, there were only a line or two scribbled on the otherwise empty paper.

 _Not sure_ (here a name was scratched out so thoroughly she couldn’t make it out) _would like this method? Advice sounds very stodgy, but otherwise common sense. Chapter 4 extremely unwise._

She flipped to chapter four. It was the chapter on how to ask a woman – or man – to bed. She snickered quietly to herself.

“What’s so funny?”

Emma jumped in her seat. Warrick had a look of abject horror on his face. Poor guy. She wiggled the book so that he could see the cover. “This book! You know, if you want to ask someone out on a date, you can just ask me or anyone else for help.”

Sure, she was a little sad that Warrick had a thing for someone, but it was probably for the best. Anything aside from a _very_ long crush on Princess Ozma would be for the best. He wasn’t really responding, though, just turning redder and redder with each passing second. She put the book back on the table as a kind of peace offering. He didn’t take it.

“Who is she, by the way? Or he? Them? There are a lot of attractive people at Calliope, you know.” she cast her mind around, but really the only person she could think of that Warrick would have a crush on was Jack. He didn’t seem very close to any of the other Earth-based people, and Ben was straight as an arrow.

“Erm.” He muttered. “I don’t think I’m ready to ask her on a date. Is that what it’s called? I was just curious to see how, if – when I get my heart back, what people here did.”

“What does having your heart back have to do with anything?” she sipped her (lukewarm) tea. “I thought you weren’t in love with Ozma anymore. Unless this is Ozma? I’m sorry –”

“No, no, I – oh, hell with it.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I wanted to ask _you_ on a date.”

There was a slightly-too-long pause. Warrick looked like he was bracing for rejection already; he avoided eye contact as he packed up his notes and books. Emma blinked almost as fast as her heartbeat. Stood up. Walked around the corner of the table and placed both her hands on Warrick’s shoulders before he got up.

“What are you - ?” he looked a little scared. And hopeful. And scared of being hopeful. Emma bent down and kissed the corner of his mouth, so as not to burn him.

“I - I’m looking forward to being asked out.” she said, the effect slightly ruined by stuttering. She didn’t think Warrick noticed, however – he was frozen to the chair as neatly as if she’d pinned him down. Which was _definitely_ a thought for another time. Emma wanted to laugh so badly at how poleaxed he was, but she settled for: “And go to sleep soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys did you know there is a companion piece to this? because there is and it's excellent. http://archiveofourown.org/works/2460368


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